Diplomatic activities. Among the remarkable Russian people of the last century, the multifaceted personality of Alexander Sergeevich Griboyedov attracts attention - presentation

DIPLOMAT

The notorious chain of the all-sung Caucasus,

Impenetrable, deserted country,

A den of robbers, poetry is an infection!

Without benefit, without beauty, since when are you famous?

P. A. Katenin

Griboedov is used to chaos. In Poland, he saw contradictory orders from equal commanders (the governor and the commander of the reserve army), the equal circulation of a variety of money (Russian, Polish and counterfeit), he saw various agents, swindlers and adventurers. In St. Petersburg he lived among eternal theatrical intrigues, eternal lack of money and eternal clashes between artists, aristocrats and authors.

But he was also surprised by the diplomatic world. The Polish confusion was limited to Poland, the theater confusion was limited to two or three theaters. The College of Foreign Affairs was engaged in maintaining order in Europe, Asia and even America, while itself was in a state of complete anarchy, starting in the cashier's room and ending in the emperor's office.

Diplomats received their salaries in guilders, which were minted, however, not in Holland, but in Russia, with a gold content higher than the original Dutch ones. Holland did not object - in this way it increased its treasury. Russia, on the other hand, used guilders for international payments and to pay off the necessary foreign persons: no government, no England or France could prove the fact of bribery, since not rubles, but guilders were used; What is the demand from Holland? she has long lost political weight. In 1817, Russian guilders began to circulate in Russia itself, especially in St. Petersburg. That year, banknotes that had become worthless after the war were exchanged for new ones. The people did not trust either one or the other and were glad to see the appearance of full-fledged gold coins. They were nicknamed “Arapchiki” because of the image of a knight and incomprehensible inscriptions.

Alexander could not bother himself with the exchange and paid in guilders everywhere in the capital.

But what amused him most was that he joined a non-existent institution. There has been no College of Foreign Affairs for a long time. In 1802, Alexander I replaced Peter's collegiums with ministries, but did not create the staff of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but simply transferred the entire Foreign Collegium to it. He did not cancel the position of president (or manager) of the Collegium. It was assumed that the minister would determine the general direction of Russia's foreign policy, and the manager would carry out direct work to implement it. The emperor, of course, did not hope for their idyllic cooperation; on the contrary, he counted on mutual hostility and assigned himself the role of the supreme reconciliator of contradictions and the sole arbiter of the destinies of the state. For the time being, he remained neutral, but it could be predicted that one day a minister would appear who would be more pleasing to him for his personal qualities or beliefs than his colleague, and then the balance of power in the ministry would be disrupted, employees would be divided into parties and Russia’s international prestige would become a shuttlecock. in a behind-the-scenes game.

And so it happened. In 1817, the office of minister was formally divided between two people. The countries of the East and general issues were in charge of Count Kapodistrias, a purebred Greek in Russian service, barely forty years old. He was ambitious, but cautious, and, according to rumors circulating in the ministry, he saw the goal of Russian foreign policy in restoring the independence of Greece, which had been under the Ottoman yoke for several centuries, and viewed other problems through the prism of the Greek ones. He welcomed Russia's wars with Turkey, stood for an alliance with France, which supported the idea of ​​the Greek revolution, and opposed rapprochement with Austria, which hindered this revolution. He even created Greek heterias in Odessa - associations of patriots preparing for an armed uprising against the Turks.

Griboedov's immediate superior, the manager of the Collegium, was Count Nesselrode, a German who was born a Russian subject, but did not know the Russian language. He was very careful, but not smart. He considered the Austrian Foreign Minister, Prince Metternich, to be the greatest man on earth, and he saw the goal of Russian foreign policy as earning his approval. He stood for an alliance with Austria and did his best to prevent the Greek uprising, because it would be unpleasant to Metternich. Two years ago, he almost buried his career by missing the secret agreement between Austria and France against Russia, but he did not lose blind trust in Metternich.

The emperor knew the value of both ministers, listened to their advice no more than they deserved, and even in those rare cases when Kapodistrias and Nesselrode agreed, he pursued his own line. (So, both did not have good feelings for the Poles, although for different reasons, but this did not prevent the monarch from giving a constitution to the Kingdom of Poland.) Everything went well until the sovereign became carried away by the ideals of pan-Christian unity, dreamed of a world without wars, revolutions and upheavals, and proposed the creation of a Holy Alliance that would unite Orthodox Russia, Catholic Austria and Protestant Prussia, and subsequently, perhaps other European countries. Metternich greatly approved of the Union - religion did not bother him, but he saw in it an excellent means of attracting Russia to Austria. Nesselrode actively supported the emperor’s favorite brainchild, traveled with him to congresses of the Holy Alliance and increasingly earned the sympathy of Alexander I.

Count Kapodistrias, on the contrary, tried to cool the tsar’s ardor, opposed the conclusion of the Union, demonstrated his Orthodoxy to the detriment of universal Christianity, and finally tired of Alexander. He had not yet lost the trust of the emperor, but already the most far-sighted subordinates began to slowly go over to the side of the rising star Nesselrode. They would do it faster if they were confident in his ability to maintain the acquired advantage.

The college was seething with intrigues and grievances, which were intensified by the uncertainty of the future. Griboyedov did not participate in them. He saw no difference whether the ministry was headed by a Greek or a German; anyway, the policy was determined by the emperor, who had not yet made such serious mistakes that the intervention of every provincial secretary was required. He did not even think, unlike some of his friends, that granting a constitution to Poland was such a wrong decision. Alexander knew firsthand the situation in this country and did not believe a penny in the persistent rumors that the tsar loved the Poles and hated the Russians and even wanted to move the capital to Warsaw.

Griboedov did not manage to remain an outside observer for long. Kapodistrias, accepting him into service through Lansky, heard more about him than a boss usually hears about a minor employee. The count, although he spoke little Russian, was an “honorary goose” of Arzamas. It was through the faithful Arzamas residents, Bludov and Dashkov, officials of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, that Lanskoy assigned Nastasya Fedorovna’s son to the place. For Kapodistrias, Griboyedov was a young playwright, an adherent of Shakhovsky. At first, he tried to despise him for this. But from the minister’s office the cheerful struggle between “Arzamas” and “Conversations” was seen differently than from the literary drawing rooms. Griboyedov quickly achieved respect in the College. He held the position of translator, and although he translated very little himself, during round-the-clock duties he willingly suggested to his colleagues how to more accurately convey this or that expression in French, German, Italian or English. The French language at the Collegium was known to everyone, down to the simple copyists of papers, since it was the language of office work (unlike all other institutions in Russia), but no one knew so many languages ​​​​at the same time - and so well.

The fame of Griboyedov as a polyglot reached the minister. Or, perhaps, rapidly losing followers, he felt in him his literary brother, far from bureaucratic strife. In any case, at one of the morning receptions of employees at the beginning of October, he called him over and, as if by chance, asked him whether he understood Greek. Alexander answered negatively, he did not even study ancient Greek - only Latin, and Kapodistrias, as if jokingly, advised him to fill this gap. The conversation was public and seemingly insignificant. But Griboedov perceived it differently. If the count, knowing the situation in the world, hinted at the need to study Greek, this could mean that soon some events would take place in Greece and Russian diplomats with knowledge of Greek would receive important assignments. Alexander willingly believed in this, and not without reason - he knew how to perceive the hidden meaning of speeches.

Like everyone in Europe (except perhaps Austria), Alexander sympathized with the fate of the Greeks. Hellas, the cradle of European culture, the country that gave the world the ideal of beauty in literature, architecture and sculpture, perished under Turkish rule! The whole world was indignant (except perhaps England) when, taking advantage of the difficult situation of Greece, Lord Elgin exported priceless treasures of ancient art, decorating the collection of the British Museum with them. In his youth, Griboedov enthusiastically read the first two songs of Byron’s “Childe Harold” and fell in love with the long-suffering country that the great poet so ardently sang. He would be happy to help the Greeks: in Russia, many young people dreamed of joining the Greek uprising, regardless of whether they were attracted by the romance of struggle, support for Orthodoxy, hatred of the Turks, or admiration for the beauty and past of Hellas. True, Griboedov remembered Byron’s warning addressed to the Greeks:

Slaves, slaves! Or forgotten by you

A law known to every nation?

Neither a Gaul nor a Muscovite will save you,

It is not for your sake that they are preparing them for the campaign.

The tyrant will fall, but only to please others.

O Greece! Rise up to fight!

The slave must earn his own freedom!

You will renew the chains, but not your destiny.

Or wash away the shame with blood, or be a slave to a slave!

And nowhere did he find in Byron evidence of the courage and belligerence of the Greeks, equal to those that the poet so vividly depicted in the first song about warring Spain. However, Griboyedov was not going to help the Greeks fight; he did not imagine that the cowardly Kapodistrias needed experts in the Greek language to participate in battles.

Alexander seriously began to study Greek and went crazy with this language: he took lessons every day for four hours and made great progress. Unlike everyone who had ever taken up Greek grammar, he found the language not at all difficult. But he hadn’t trained for even a month when he found himself drawn into a duel and investigation. When the story ended, he learned that Count Kapodistrias had fallen out of favor with the emperor. He behaved completely inappropriately during the tsar's trip to the opening of the first Polish Sejm and so clearly expressed dissatisfaction with what was happening, so impudently refused to carry out simple orders of the sovereign, that he was almost completely dismissed from business. Nesselrode rejoiced, and everyone in the College began to call him “Minister.”

This happened at the end of February. And at the beginning of April, Alexander was summoned to the Asian department of the Collegium, where he was received by the young official Alexander Sturdza. He came from a noble Moldavian family, received a German education and was previously considered a supporter of Kapodistrias. Now he tried to curry favor with Nesselrode, but was unsuccessful - he more and more turned into an Orthodox fanatic, and the emperor did not favor such people (and soon dismissed him, leaving him to write arguments in his spare time about the superiority of the Orthodox faith over others). Sturdza greeted Griboyedov with a Lenten smile and, speaking with truly Christian gentleness, said that the ministry had decided to provide him with the requested diplomatic position and send him... to the newly created Russian mission in Persia. Griboyedov was completely shocked. He tried to immediately refuse the dubious honor, but Sturdza, with the same pleasantness, offered him a choice between Tehran and Philadelphia in America and advised him to think about his decision for a few days.

Alexander returned to his place in complete confusion and did not know who to consult. All his friends were absent, even Gendre went to Moscow, intending to stay at Nastasya Fedorovna’s house. And what could they tell him? There is no doubt that a direction to Paris or Vienna would have been immeasurably more pleasant, but after the duel and the defeat of Kapodistrias, Alexander could not count on the mercy of his superiors and understood that it was not without reason that he was being sent to the edge of civilization. It was impossible to refuse without important reasons - this would mean resignation. If you decide to leave the diplomatic service, then where? There is nowhere else to go except the military. And the officer is just as vulnerable as the diplomat - there is a war in Transcaucasia, what if he is sent there, in the footsteps of Yakubovich? One way or another, Persia cannot be avoided. He didn't even think about America; from a diplomatic point of view, it was a dead end: what could be distinguished there? He chose to agree to Persia, but putting forward conditions that would have been obviously unacceptable to Nesselrode.

On April 12, he received an invitation from the minister to appear before him. Alexander decided to behave boldly to the point of insolence and announced that he would not decide on an appointment otherwise (and even then not for sure) than if he was given a promotion by two ranks. Nesselrode winced, but remained silent. Alexander depicted to him with all possible French eloquence that it would be cruel for him to spend his blossoming summers among the wild Asians, in voluntary exile; to be away from friends and relatives for a long time, to renounce literary success, which he has a right to expect, from any communication with enlightened people, with pleasant women, to whom he himself may be pleasant. In a word, it is impossible for him to sacrifice himself without at least somewhat commensurate reward.

You will improve your talents in solitude.

Not at all, Your Excellency. A musician and a poet need listeners and readers; they are not in Persia...

Nesselrode, contrary to his expectations, did not get angry and did not drive him away. On the contrary, he first introduced him to the supposed boss, the head of the Russian mission in Persia, Simon Mazarovich. A Dalmatian by origin, a doctor by training, a native of Venice, a subject of Austria, he served Russia, although he did not even take an oath to it. (The appointment of a doctor as a diplomat was not accidental: important matters in Persia were decided not in waiting rooms, but in harems, where only European doctors had access. The British, who had long worked in the East, were the first to master the rules of “harem diplomacy” and often sent doctors as envoys. Nesselrode I decided to take advantage of other people's experience.)

Then the count explained to Griboedov that in any European mission he could hope for an insignificant position in accordance with his insignificant experience and merits, and in Persia there would be only Mazarovich above him, so he would receive a host of benefits, incentives and insignia upon arrival. He was being offered not a sinecure, the count assured, but real, serious and largely independent activity. After all, Griboyedov was involved in collecting various kinds of information and communicating with various kinds of agents and local residents when he served at the headquarters of the reserve army, and Kologrivov assessed his successes quite highly. Now he will do almost the same thing. True, the collection of statistical and military information about foreign states, according to the highest decree of December 12, 1815, was made the responsibility of the First Department of the Office of the Quartermaster General of the General Staff, but Nesselrode did not consider this innovation reasonable, since headquarters officials still had to be part of the permanent diplomatic missions: so why should they report to the General Staff on military-political issues, and to the Foreign Collegium on political issues? It is more appropriate to retain the entirety of information from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Therefore, the count sent Mazarovich for representative functions, to attend official receptions, etc., and Griboedov for any practical work to which the Dalmatian was not entirely accustomed. No one else will be included in the Persian mission.

In fact, Nesselrode continued to cajole, there will be no direct superiors over Griboyedov closer than in St. Petersburg. The minister promised him one rank at once, and another with acceptable speed, since sudden movement up through one class was possible only as a reward, which, as Griboyedov, of course, had to understand, he had no right to count on. Alexander, however, did not lower his demands: promises are promises, and he wants to be “a collegiate assessor or nothing.” He mocked himself, paraphrasing the famous motto of Cesare Borgia “Either Caesar or nothing.” He felt the absurdity of the situation when he insisted on the absence of ambitious intentions, and for two ranks he offered himself at Nesselrode’s complete disposal. He hoped that he would be refused, but would remain in the College. It turned out differently.

He was offered a large salary of six hundred chervonets (the chervonets corresponded to a guilder, and its monetary expression was determined by the exchange rate of gold to silver, which often changed), the request for a promotion was half granted, half promised to be satisfied, Mazarovich was kind to him and seemed to him an intelligent and cheerful person - no it was impossible to think of reasons for refusal. Griboyedov desperately played for time and yet on June 16 he officially accepted the post of secretary of the Russian mission in Tehran. When submitting a form list with information about himself, he indicated his year of birth as 1790, knowing that the Moscow archives had burned down and no one would be able to check it. He wanted, by adding years to himself, to confirm his claims to a higher rank - or to gain the right to quickly retire.

Mazarovich left, and Alexander still remained in St. Petersburg, pretending to get ready, but secretly hoping: what if something would change at the last moment? General Ermolov will start a war with Persia and the need for the mission will disappear? Alas! nothing happened - we had to seriously prepare for departure. Alexander had to travel light for speed, and send all his belongings, including the piano, separately. As he put it in the box, he painfully imagined in what form his good musical friend would get to Persia!

In August, Griboyedov learned that the court would soon return to the capital. For him, this was the final blow - he was afraid that he would simply miss Begichev on the way, seeing him for a moment at some station. He delayed his departure with all his might and finally waited for Stepan in St. Petersburg. They met after a year of separation, filled with many important, sometimes tragic events, but there was no time to talk; Stepan was unpacking his things, Alexander was packing - new years of separation awaited them.

On August 29, Griboyedov left the city. Begichev, Polivanov and a bunch of other friends saw him off. Only Katenin disappeared somewhere immediately upon his return and did not know about the day of Alexander’s departure - Begichev regarded his absence as an unfriendly act. Everyone reached Izhora together, but there was no wild fun and youthful fun like a year ago. Griboyedov was depressed, and the company unwittingly followed his mood. Stepan tried to cheer him up, but it didn’t get any easier. When the carriage rolled forward and Griboyedov, looking back, saw friends waving their hands and handkerchiefs, he almost burst into tears.

He was leaving the city in which he had lived for only three years; So far he was only traveling to Moscow, the city of his childhood, but he felt that he was leaving behind something very important, the most dear to him - and his memory clung to the slightest joys of the recent past, and did not have the strength to look into the future. In Novgorod, he felt that he could no longer remain alone with his own thoughts, and grabbed his pen to write to Begichev, although he had seen him only the day before:

“This time you have been deceived in my heart, my dear, true friend Stepan, my sadness does not go away, does not decrease. Here I am in Novgorod, but my thoughts are still in St. Petersburg. There I had many disappointments, but sometimes I was happy; Now, as I move away from there, it seems that everything was fine there, it’s just a pity. - Imagine that I have become terribly tearful, nothing cheerful can enter my mind, does this look like me? Today is my name day: the noble prince, after whom I am named, became famous here; Do you remember that he died on his way back from Asia; Maybe the same fate awaits the same-named secretary of the embassy, ​​but it’s unlikely that I will become a saint!

Good bye, my friend; Now we’re back on the road again, and this one incessant counter-movement in the stroller is enough to drive us crazy! - You see one of my friends, acquaintances, remind them of me; I am too confident in you that you will never forget your faithful friend.

If you have a chance to send or visit Grech, sign up for me to receive his magazine. Oh! I almost forgot: sign up for the posters, send them to me, and if you leave St. Petersburg, entrust them to someone else, Katenin or Zhandre. - Goodbye, I kiss you from the bottom of my heart.

You have a new ballet today.”

The wheels turned and turned inexorably, and only endless delays at the stations stopped their movement. Having poured out his grief to Stepan, Alexander felt relieved. In the first days of the journey, his thoughts were in St. Petersburg, but after two nights spent somehow on the road, his soul seemed to have caught up with his body, he began to notice the world around him and his companion. He did not like the world around him - in every village there were soldiers, as if in a conquered region. The companion was nicer.

In addition to the constant Amlikh in the back of the carriage, whom Griboyedov considered almost a part of himself, traveling with him was young Andrei Karlovich Amburger, a German by birth, assigned to the minor position of registrar at the Persian mission. He himself seemed like an insignificant person, he was short in stature, but at the same time he was hot-tempered, intelligent and generally a good guy. He considered station keepers to be his worst enemies and, without any visible effort, reduced the tedious waits for passing trains. Griboyedov, having come to his senses, regained his usual jocularity and immediately began to very seriously assure his comrade that “being a German is a very stupid role in this world,” and so convincingly that the poor fellow began to sign “Amburgev”, and not "R", and recklessly scold the Germans.

On September 2, they found themselves on the outskirts of Moscow. The closer they got, the more distant, somehow unreal, Petersburg began to seem, as if it did not exist. Alexander remembered as clearly as if it was yesterday the last time he saw Moscow: black ash and streets made of chimneys. Now he was approaching her from the north, from a direction he hardly knew. But then the St. Petersburg highway crossed into Tverskaya, Alexander looked around in amazement and did not recognize the surroundings. And no trace of the great fire remained. Moscow has been rebuilt, transformed, is it for the better? After the wide avenues, high apartment buildings and huge palaces of St. Petersburg, the new Moscow seemed completely provincial to Griboyedov. The streets were narrow and crooked, the houses were almost entirely wooden, one-story with mezzanines, built according to two or three highly approved designs. They stood with their facades facing the street, and not behind fences, as before, but this did not make the city any more city. Mooing, crowing, barking and other rural sounds filled the air. Griboyedov was so unaccustomed to them that he felt almost like the pathetic Polish Kobrin, in bad memory, when he arrived. He deliberately asked to go down to the beginning of Tverskaya and drive along Mokhovaya before turning to Novinsky. The university building was not yet completed, but there was a huge Manege nearby, whose purpose seemed not entirely clear.

Finally, Alexander saw his native Novinskoye, completely restored. He found his house in the same place, but it looked different - stone, but very simple, with a low first floor for servants, a formal second floor and a mezzanine above. Nastasya Feodorovna met her son after a five-year separation with maternal cordiality and maternal despotism. There was no one else in the city whom Griboedov hoped to hug: Maria had not yet arrived from Khmelit, where she spent the summer with her uncle’s family, but they were expecting her any day; Gendre lived with the Griboyedovs, but Alexander did not see him - he was hiding somewhere with Varvara Semyonovna Miklashevich, whom Nastasya Fedorovna, of course, could not receive; Chipyagov, who was supposed to leave St. Petersburg almost simultaneously with Griboyedov, disappeared somewhere; General Kologrivov's younger brother died suddenly; Dmitry Begichev was not there either - but there was a monument to Minin and Pozharsky, and Alexander was impressed enough for the first day.

The next day he went with his mother to the theater - they were performing “Feigned Infidelity.” Griboyedov was greeted in the hall like family and surrounded by crowds of acquaintances, whose faces or names he did not remember. Kokoshkin, director of Moscow theaters, actor and playwright, hastened to bow to him and humbly apologized that “ lovely“His poems are so tormenting that it’s not his fault if the audience doesn’t listen. “That would be something to listen to!” - Griboyedov thought to himself. The actors, however, seemed worthy of the public. Alexander wrote to Begichev that the one who roars on stage in a lion mask in one of Didelot’s ballets is Roscius in comparison with the leading Moscow artists. From Stepan he received a letter sent after him, although Begichev rarely bothered with correspondence - it both consoled Alexander and made him sigh about St. Petersburg again.

He didn’t have time to get bored in Moscow: everything was new, and there was a lot to do. He visited Alexei Alexandrovich Pavlov, who was married to Ermolov’s sister, and he undertook to take care of him through his wife. Griboyedov immediately felt thorough: he was not wasting time, he remembered Stepan’s exhortations to behave smartly - and immediately went to order everything necessary for Persia. However, his good intentions were not fulfilled: he met an old university friend, went with him to a restaurant, drank champagne for the meeting, went to the theater to clap for a pretty singer (Muscovites did not applaud anything, as if they were protecting their palms, and Alexander deliberately made a fair amount of noise in the hall). After the theater he came down with an extreme headache, and Nastasya Feodorovna even gave him a compress. In the morning he got up fresher, but did not get down to business, but went to visit his young neighbor, whom he suddenly remembered from earlier times. She continued to live nearby, and Griboyedov quickly became friends with her again.

But other than that, he didn’t like Moscow. He felt himself in a vice, he was depressed by idleness and luxury, not coupled with the slightest feeling for anything good and elegant. Even the music seemed neglected. Elderly acquaintances remembered him as Sasha, a sweet child who had now grown up, had a lot of fun, had finally become good for something, was assigned to a mission and might eventually become a state councilor - and they saw nothing more in him. His relationship with his mother quickly became very bad. She was angry with him for the duel, asked Amburger to protect him from such clashes in the future; he tried to figure out the details of her strange purchase on debt of a huge Kostroma estate of eight hundred souls - but he was told that this was not his business, and the estate would pay for itself. Nastasya Fedorovna once at a dinner party began to speak with contempt about his poetic studies, extolled Kokoshkin and reproached her son for the envy characteristic of small writers, since he did not admire Kokoshkin. Gendre, who was sitting nearby, looked at his friend with sympathy and vowed to himself to move away from the Griboyedovs as soon as he saw Alexander off.

But no matter how annoying Moscow was, Griboedov dreamed of St. Petersburg, and not of Persia. Someone returned from the Caucasus and said that there was no passage: recently five thousand Circassians attacked some transport. It’s doubtful, of course, but Alexander thought that one would be enough for him; a pleasant trip, nothing to say! He stayed in Moscow for two weeks, wrote to friends in St. Petersburg with unprecedented frequency, and upon leaving he was sad only about parting with his sister. He sincerely loved her, and she not only loved her - she was the only one in Moscow understood brother Alexander even thought that from now on he would not be selfish, but that upon returning from Persia, he would settle with her in St. Petersburg (and with his mother, if it was impossible otherwise).

Now Griboyedov and Amburger were driving non-stop, but not fast; Alexander did not consider it necessary to spend all nights in a carriage - he is not a courier! In addition, they were delayed by the usual troubles on the road: there were no horses in Tula all day, Amburger was furious, and Griboedov, out of boredom, was reading the entire annual collection of the long-defunct Moscow magazine “Museum”, which adorned the walls of the tavern. In Voronezh, the chaise finally broke down completely - after all, 1200 miles were left behind! - and the travelers stayed in the city for two whole days; but here they didn’t mind - before the upcoming rush into the wild lands, through the mountains, rest was highly desirable for them.

On October 10, they reached Mozdok, the worst hole at the foot of the Caucasus, where they found mud, fog and His Excellency the Proconsul of Iberia - that is, General Ermolov. The commander-in-chief greeted Griboyedov very cordially, perhaps in memory of his grandmother Marya Ivanovna Rosenberg, who had once rendered services to him and his friends in a matter that he did not like to remember. That long-standing conspiracy against Paul I, which brought young Ermolov to the fortress, where he sat in a casemate and listened to the splashing of the waves above his head, taught him caution in relations with emperors. But in all other respects, he was a powerful man, the complete master of the Caucasus and Transcaucasia, endowed with the right to declare war and peace and establish the border at his own discretion! Ermolov, in fact, was Griboyedov’s direct superior. The general last year went on a short embassy to Persia, trying to force it to comply with the terms of the Gulistan Peace of 1813. But the Persians required constant supervision, for which they created Mazarovich’s mission, which must act in agreement with Ermolov.

Griboedov, to his satisfaction, spent only a few days in Mozdok. Mazarovich was in Tiflis, and Alexander sent him a letter in advance, in which he did not bother to express special respect to his boss: he casually explained the delay in arrival by crew breakdowns; informed me that he had spent all the travel money and more; dispensed with any compliments under the pretext of their triteness and without any details under the pretext of being in a hurry. Amburger, succumbing to the harmful influence of his older comrade, did not add anything of his own, “since he has nothing to add.” Mazarovich hardly formed a favorable judgment about his future subordinates after reading the postscript: “Forgive me my messing up, our pens are poorly maintained, the ink is the worst, and besides, I’m in a hurry, although I don’t know why.” Is it difficult to sharpen a pen in two days, he might ask. And Alexander had his own traveling inkwell and it was excellent - Begichev’s farewell gift, for which Alexander thanked him a hundred times, so it came in handy.

Griboyedov and Amburger made their first crossings through the Caucasus Range in the retinue of the commander-in-chief. We rode on horseback; infantry, cannons and cavalry scurried around. Alexander again felt like he was at war, but this was not the Polish plain. Ahead, snowy mountain peaks peeked out of the fog. The wooded area was hilly, the road twisted, repeating the countless bends of the Terek, but so far the ride was not difficult. On the second day, the caravan climbed up, from steepness to steepness, in some places the horses walked in single file. Alexander tried to move to the side to console himself a little with pleasant loneliness, but he was almost immediately called into formation. In Kumbaleevka they left Ermolov and moved to Vladikavkaz, accompanied by ten Cossacks.

Griboedov grew up on a plain and did not see mountains higher than Vorobyovy and Valdai. He, of course, realized that the Caucasus ridge was not like them, he remembered from the lessons of Petrosilius that Kazbek and Elbrus were covered with eternal snow, but he could not at all imagine what it looked like in reality. He would like to prepare in advance for what awaits him, but there was nowhere to even read about the mountains! Karamzin in “Letters of a Russian Traveler” depicted the Alps, but they were foothills. Byron created the immortal third song of “Childe Harold,” where in a few poetic lines he conveyed impressions of the mountains more vividly than Karamzin did in several pages, but this song has not yet reached Russia. German geographers compiled a detailed description of the Caucasus, but it was impossible to extract from their scientific works feeling mountain landscapes. The Russian military repeatedly crossed the Caucasus and the Alps, for example, in Suvorov's Swiss campaign in 1799, but neither General Miloradovich, whom Griboyedov knew a little from St. Petersburg, nor Suvorov's other companions had the gift of written or oral speech. Griboedov was the first Russian writer to find himself in real mountains and felt the need to convey information to subsequent travelers about what awaited them. He even began, despite his fatigue, to write down at the end of the day everything he saw and experienced.

On the third day of the journey, the mountains were still low, but the snow already lay picturesquely in folds between the golden hills; The Terek, covered with white breakers, was noisy next to the road, and an incomprehensible roar could be heard from a distance - the guides explained that it was avalanches, but Griboyedov still had a unclear idea of ​​what this meant. Near Vladikavkaz, he was struck by the beauty of the combination of green gardens and snow cover - in Russia, snow very rarely falls next to blooming greenery. The city stood on a flat place, but behind it cliffs appeared, rising and getting closer, as if they wanted to crush the road. The wildness of the place was emphasized by either abandoned Ossetian castles or Russian redoubts and barracks. Then the travelers saw a huge white stone hanging over their heads - and entered the gloomy Daryal Gorge. Terek became invisible, only roaring under the foam. Griboedov looked with some horror at the powerful granite cliffs, they overwhelmed him, and the next day, after spending the night in the barracks, he greeted with relief another huge white stone - now at the exit from Daryal. He thought that the worst was over, became cheerful and looked with enthusiasm at the numerous picturesque Ossetian villages with castles, churches and granite monasteries. Several times they crossed the Terek, avoiding recent rubble; Griboedov took off his glasses - without them he could not see beyond the horse’s nose, but he could not be afraid of dizziness from the frantic speed of the river. The Terek Valley, to his surprise, was densely populated; he constantly met people and caravans on the road and saw mountain villages with stone towers everywhere. Amburger often screamed with delight at the sight of picturesque landscapes, but Griboedov, looking around, noticed not only beauty, but also gaps from explosions, rubble from the remains of artillery shells, recent ruins - here Russian troops used crowbar and gunpowder to break through the Georgian Military Road.

On the sixth day the real nightmare began. From Kobi station the trail went sharply up to the Cross Pass. Winter reigned here - wind, snow, they wouldn’t surprise a serious person, but on the left, at the very edge of the road, one could look into the immeasurable abyss, where the hidden Terek steam beat, and on the right, one could touch with one’s hand the immeasurable cliffs, whose peaks were drowned in the clouds. Griboyedov forgot to think about the Circassians! Nature here was worse than man! He absolutely did not understand why they did not all slide into the gorge. They walked - the narrow slippery road constantly crumbled underfoot, people and horses were constantly falling, he himself fell several times, but there was nothing to grab onto; Rocks and snow hung overhead, threatening to collapse, it became difficult to breathe, the thin air increased fatigue, and a strong wind tried to throw us down. Here all that remained was to walk as quickly as possible, without looking down or up, right or left, especially under the famous overhanging rock, nicknamed by the Cossacks “Bring it, Lord!” Alexander could only think about one thing: how would his piano fit here? Will he ever see him on the other side of the Caucasus?! The path went steeply downhill, then uphill again, and Griboyedov could not decide which was worse. He didn’t want to put on glasses - anyway, they immediately fogged up, and without them he felt somehow calmer, at least he couldn’t measure the depth of the abysses with his eyes.

Finally, we got to the Koishaur station, took new horses, went down a little - and were suddenly struck by an unexpected, cheerful picture. Half of Georgia lay at their feet: Aragva wound among bushes and trees, arable fields and herds, towers and monasteries, houses and bridges were visible. The surroundings turned green, the snow receded, and the descent, after the horrors experienced, seemed completely harmless. In a few hours, the travelers went from winter to summer. Griboyedov and Amburger got into the droshky and took turns driving. Neither one nor the other had ever done this before, and the journey threatened to end in the nearest river, but the tired horses themselves carefully took them to the village of Pasanauri. We spent the night here. The next day, Alexander admired the fertility of the country he found himself in: the road went through pear, apple and plum trees, still hung with fruit, between trellises of vines; and the locals looked at the fruits indifferently, as if they were birch leaves. Now they were driving through a garden, admiring Georgian fortresses and castles, listening to Georgian melodies and songs. Near the city of Mtskheta, the Aragva noisily merged with the Kura at the foot of the magnificent ancient temple, and along its right bank they entered Tiflis the next morning.

The city stood on high, steep stone banks, decorated with an ancient fortress, ancient churches and a palace. The droshky rolled merrily along crooked streets, along houses with balconies or blank walls, interrupted by open gates into courtyards with countless staircases, people and animals inside. Alexander rejoiced at the eastern view of the city - it would have been a shame to travel three thousand miles and see something familiar. He wanted to examine everything in more detail, but did not have time. The first person he saw in Tiflis was not Mazarovich.

On the steps of the station, with his arms crossed over his chest, gracefully draped in a cloak, a painfully familiar figure stood in a picturesque pose. Yakubovich! The disgraced uhlan greeted Griboyedov with some kind of gloomy satisfaction and immediately demanded that the work begun in St. Petersburg be completed. He had already been anticipating the arrival of the enemy for two weeks and, ahead of time, spread stories about the death of Sheremetev, recruiting supporters and seconds. The link to the Caucasus surprisingly revived Yakubovich’s imagination, which had previously been uncontrollably ardent. He loved to be the center of attention and was famous for the incredibly interesting stories he told among his friends. From time to time they became overgrown with details, and the writer himself did not notice how the grain of truth disappeared in the darkness of romantic fiction. Now he explained his exile by the fact that after Sheremetev was wounded, when the opponents refused to continue the duel, out of frustration he shot at Zavadovsky and shot through his hat. Such an act would be, to say the least, vile, and for it he would not end up in exile, but straight to hard labor. Of course, the friends did not completely believe Yakubovich, but they did not want to destroy the aura of tragic mystery that surrounded their idol. His behavior was new for Georgia and brought variety to the monotonous life of the Russian garrison.

In the evening, without having time to settle down in the tavern, Griboyedov was forced to ask Amburger to be his second in the upcoming fight, since he did not know anyone else in Tiflis. Both were depressed by the upcoming task; True, they could no longer be exiled further than Persia (what could be worse?), but shooting in an unfamiliar city the next day after arriving with a man who, quite likely, had many friends here, seemed very unpleasant. The death of Griboyedov would have put Mazarovich in a difficult situation, and the injury would have aggravated the situation of Griboedov himself.

The next morning, at the Polya restaurant, Yakubovich introduced his second, Nikolai Nikolaevich Muravyov, to Griboedov and Amburger. The name seemed familiar to Alexander; during his university years he was friends with the Muravyovs, but he did not recognize the young man himself. Of all the brothers, he loved him least of all, and when they met again, he did not change his opinion. Griboedov had not yet recovered from the journey, was stunned by new impressions and new troubles, and had difficulty perceiving his surroundings. Muravyov seemed to him to be good-natured because of his snub nose, but cold, cautious and very prudent. He could not understand how such a positive campaigner allowed himself to be drawn into a duel until he noticed with what obvious admiration he looked at Yakubovich, seeing in him a revived hero of romantic authors, like the noble robber Sbogar from the novel by Charles Nodier or the mysterious Corsair Byron.

In the evening, everyone gathered at Muravyov’s to discuss the terms of the fight. Amburger proposed reconciliation, but Muravyov, contrary to his duties as a second, did not support him, saying that he completely accepted Yakubovich’s decision, believing that he knew better. Amburger insisted, referring, since nothing else worked, to the request of Griboyedov’s mother to prevent the duel. He finally forced Muravyov to talk to Yakubovich, but the breter, of course, did not want to hear about peace. Griboyedov himself entered into negotiations and said that he had never offended Yakubovich. He agreed with this.

Then why don't you want to leave this matter?

I promised Sheremetev with my word of honor at his death that I would take revenge on you and Zavadovsky for him!

Alexander didn't believe it. He knew that Sheremetev did not expect death and spent the last day almost in high spirits, almost rejoicing in his battle for Istomin. It was very implausible that Vasily, with his nobility, would suddenly demand revenge, especially since, from the point of view of a man of honor, there were no reasons for it. It was not Yakubovich, but Griboyedov who should have considered himself offended.

“You vilified me everywhere,” Alexander continued.

Yakubovich answered strangely:

I vilified it and had to do it until now; but now I see that you acted like a noble man; I respect your action; but nevertheless he must finish the work he started and keep his word given to the deceased.

If so, then let the gentlemen seconds decide the matter,” Alexander said irritably and went into the next room.

Muravyov suggested shooting at Yakubovich’s apartment from corner to corner of the room until there was blood (and not just exchanging shots), as if the insult was severe and required an immediate battle to the death, but Amburger refused to even discuss this, pointing out that perhaps Yakubovich had shot at yourself in the room and the conditions will be unequal.

They decided to shoot the next morning in a field outside the city, six steps away; Muravyov promised to find a place and a doctor;

Amburger undertook to get a chaise and horses from Mazarovich. Yakubovich’s behavior did not fit into any framework: one might have thought that he was at least fighting for the honor of his family, so harshly he insisted on an extremely small distance between the barriers (they were never placed at less than six steps, and even at six they were shooting exclusively rarely!), and the reason was only the dubious seduction of the actress by Zavadovsky, to which Griboedov may have had something to do, but Yakubovich had absolutely nothing to do with it. Muravyov himself felt the need to limit the duel to one exchange of shots, but could not insist on his own. Yakubovich had extensive fighting experience, knew that Griboedov had never participated in a duel before, and hoped to definitely put him down.

Even very brave, battle-tested people usually spent anxious nights before a fight. Griboyedov expected that he would not fall asleep; Amburger was just as worried as he was. But after two months of travel, after the mountain horrors and worries of the previous day, both fell asleep. They were awakened by Muravyov, who rode up before dawn with a request not to leave until he returned and led them to the place of the duel - a ravine on the way from Tiflis to Kakheti, conveniently hidden from the eyes of passers-by. While Griboedov and Amburger were getting dressed, Muravyov galloped to Yakubovich, ordered him to go to the ravine on foot and hide behind the monument; then he ran to Doctor Miller, asking him to wait in the distance until the horseman appeared from the ravine, and then rush to help. Having agreed with everyone, he rode on horseback, showing the way to Griboedov and Amburger, who were sitting in the chaise. (Amburger got the chaise by deception, and Mazarovich, who was busy about leaving, did not bother to inquire why his subordinates needed it at dawn; perhaps he decided not to think about such an oddity - for it was very easy to guess.)

Griboyedov was worried, knowing that the enemy wanted him dead and the battle conditions would be extremely dangerous - after all, even Zavadovsky and Sheremetev fought at twelve paces! But, having descended into the ravine, he did not see, to his surprise, Yakubovich. Alexander asked Muravyov about him, and in all his morning troubles he forgot that he himself had ordered Yakubovich to stand behind the monument. He rushed to call him, Miller took his appearance from the ravine as a sign to himself, hurried to meet him, but did not notice the ravine and rushed off somewhere into the mountains. All this confusion amused Griboedov, and when Yakubovich finally appeared, Alexander felt surprisingly calm.

Muravyov suggested shooting without frock coats and caps: of course, it would be better to die decently dressed, but in the case of a simple wound it would be unreasonable to lose outer clothing. Tiflis, as he explained, is still an unsettled city, there is only one European shoemaker, and the tailors are such that St. Petersburg dandies should not count on them. Muravyov and Amburger loaded their pistols and counted out six steps, but both were small in stature, and the distance between the barriers turned out to be ridiculously insignificant. The seconds made no last attempt to reconcile the opponents, and the duelists stood at the extreme distance. Muravyov gave the sign to begin.

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Griboyedov Alexander Sergeevich(1795 - 1829) - famous Russian playwright.

Born in Moscow on January 4, 1795, his first impressions showed him the musty environment of the old nobility, whose bold denouncer he eventually became. As a child, he saw around him the arrogant and self-satisfied faces of the Famusovs, Khlestakovs, and Khryumins. These were relatives or secular acquaintances of his mother, who constantly sought to hide her cramped position, confused by the disorderliness of an insignificant husband, to preserve the traditions of the family, which went back to the nobles who left Poland and was decorated with the names of many pre-Petrine dignitaries, to keep up in no way with the chosen society and with the help of connections provide at least a bright future for children.

Powerful and ambitious, she was capable of ruining the lives of children, raping their nature, trampling on their will and inclinations, just to fulfill her plan for getting out of their squalid state. But, exceeding most of her peers in intelligence, understanding of the spirit of the century and cultural tastes, she knew that, in addition to old-fashioned beaten paths, in Alexander’s time new paths, where birth was based on enlightenment, led to a career, sometimes much faster and more successfully. Without parting with her cherished ideas and without leaving the vicious circle of the pillar nobility, she wanted to show an example of the wise use of novelty in raising children. In her house, in addition to languages, music flourished; the tutors of Alexander and his sister Maria were educated foreigners - Petrosilius, then Ion; University professors were invited for private lessons.

The boy read a lot at home, both openly and secretly; from pranks and pranks, which early revealed his hot, rebellious disposition, he moved on to intense, passionate reading, which completely captivated him. Neither her mother nor her brother, who enjoyed unlimited influence in the house, as a man with great connections and knowledge of the world (later the main features for Famusov were taken from him), could have guessed what was happening in the inquisitive mind of the boy whom they so steadily guided , it seemed, in the spirit of caste legends, early introducing him into the circle of future patrons, noble or “casual” people. He understood a lot, doubted much of what was imposed on him as the unshakable foundations of worldly wisdom, and could hardly bear the oppression of a loving, but wayward and unyielding mother.

The University Noble Boarding School was his first school. The university completed the mental awakening. It had an effect both by the rapprochement with young people, which nevertheless took place, despite supervision, and by the variety of scientific interests that developed thanks to the freedom with which a law student could take any courses at other faculties, and the personal influence of the most gifted professors. If some of them, like Schletser, were useful in the thoroughness of the factual information that they reported, they were willing to work independently (Griboedov forever retained his love for studying history, which explains in his comedy the return of thought to the old days, healthy and whole, - as well as to economic sciences), then the former Gottingen professor Bule, versatile, with the nature of a propagandist and the ability to guess the talents and inclinations of young men, influenced the entire development of Griboyedov, appreciated and pushed him out of the crowd, expanded his horizons, studied with him privately, gave him a special interest in world literature and, above all, drama, which he himself was specially interested in, and, starting with Plautus, Terence and ending with Moliere and the later French comedians, prompted him to become acquainted with outstanding works of dramatic creativity. Participating (according to legend) at the same time in student performances, which were then almost a permanent institution, Griboedov thus took from the university preparation for the type of writing activity that made him famous. Even his student literary experiments, or rather pranks, took on dramatic form. This is a parody of “Dmitry Donskoy” that has not reached us; such is the attempt (as evidenced by one of his comrades) to sketch several humorous scenes from real life, in which the family and friends, the whole uncle’s circle, would be shown, but not in the front, but in the behind-the-scenes outfits and actions. This, also lost, sketch can be considered the first edition of “Woe from Wit,” which since then has never left Griboyedov, reflecting all the transitions and changes in his development.

The years spent at the university, in connection with home preparation and extensive reading, were such serious preparation for life for Griboyedov that in terms of education he surpassed all his peers in literature and society. Over the years, both his erudition and acquaintance with world literature grew, which began under the influence of Boulet in a somewhat one-sided, false-classical direction, but subsequently freely embraced everything that was alive and strong in the poetry of all times and schools - Shakespeare, Byron, and the Romantics . As his development progressed and at the same time his critical attitude towards the surrounding reality grew, Griboyedov’s dependence on it and the everyday prose of life, which had long been intended for him, became more and more painful.

In a later official document, he himself testifies that he was already preparing for the exam for his doctorate when the enemy invaded Russia. Unique in everything, he loved his homeland more sincerely than many of his contemporaries, who fussily flaunted their official patriotism; It seemed shameful to him not to take part in national defense, and the thirst for a full life, with exploits and dangers, attracted him to the ranks of the army. At the same time, the turning point he planned in his destiny freed him, at least temporarily, from family and social relationships, among which he was suffocating, and promised freedom of personal life, constantly suppressed by vigilant supervision and care. Not without opposition from his family, he insisted on his own and signed up as a volunteer in the regiment recruited by Count Saltykov. But while this detachment was organized, Napoleon managed to leave Moscow, and then Russia. The poetry of self-sacrifice for the fatherland could no longer captivate Griboedov, since it got rid of the invasion and was itself preparing to prescribe the laws of Europe. But he did not return to Moscow to live again with the Famusovs and Zagoretskys, and preferred the unattractive cavalry service in the remote corners of Belarus to an bureaucratic career.

Here, first in the Irkutsk Hussar Regiment, then at the headquarters of the cavalry reserves, he spent more than three years. It was a test that was not easy to survive. At first, Griboyedov, restrained for so long, passionately surrendered to the hobbies and pranks that constituted the main charm of the old hussars, and did not lag behind his comrades in the most stormy undertakings. Everything he had learned during his student days seemed to have been relegated somewhere to the farthest plane, and the prose from which Griboyedov had escaped was drawing him into its mire. But the child dissipated, the passions subsided; the lack of culture, backwardness and rudeness of the new environment were revealed in the present light; the book, reflection, dreams and creativity again became the only refuge.

In Brest-Litovsk, where Griboyedov was seconded to the headquarters of the reserves and was under the humane and educated General Kologrivov, these newly awakened tastes in him met support, first in a simple, but straightforward and honest fellow, his comrade Begichev, who was also burdened by the emptiness of hussar life, then in a group of staff officers who brightened up their leisure time with amateurish exercises in literature, especially writing poetry, composing and translating theatrical plays. Here Griboedov again takes up his pen, sends his first articles to Moscow, to Vestnik Evropy ("On Cavalry Reserves" and "Description of the Holiday in Honor of Kologrivov", 1814) and completes the translation of the play "Le secret du menage", which he called "Young spouses". He still had poor command of style and did not dare to violate the stiffness of pseudo-classical dialogue with the charming witty liberties that distinguished his conversation even then; his first experience for the stage leaves much to be desired, although, as the latest attempt to revive the play has shown, it still looks not without interest.

A decisive turn to the tastes of his early youth finally led him to the realization that he should not remain in the army any longer, that only in a different environment and with other people could he demonstrate his talents. Having visited St. Petersburg in 1815, establishing literary connections and acquaintances there and preparing his transition to the College of Foreign Affairs, he retired in March 1816. The military episode, which had cut a strange wedge into his biography, was now behind him. It was hard and ashamed to remember these young years, completely ruined; but the stock of observations of life and people has been significantly enriched. The figures of Skalozub, his cousin “strongly infected with the current century,” Goryachev, Repetilov (whose prototype was a fellow officer) were then created under the direct influence of meetings and relationships of early youth. Even in Chatsky’s biography (as far as it can be constructed based on the data presented by the comedy and not entirely chronologically consistent), we can assume a short period of passion for military service, which also left behind a residue of bitter irony.

The move to St. Petersburg was important for Griboyedov; after, in his words, the beginning of savagery in the wilderness of Belarus and Lithuania, he not only returned again to cultural life, but entered into such a circle of developed, noble-minded people who love their homeland, which he had never known before. The languid afterword of the heroic years of the Patriotic War and the wars for the liberation of Europe began; To meet the rising reaction, the fresh, talented forces of the younger generation, brought up during the best times of Alexander’s reign, acted and grouped together. Either in the form of revived Masonic lodges, then in the form of intelligent circles and salons, finally moving on to organizing secret societies with the goals of social revival, these youth sought at all costs to break with routine and stagnation and dreamed of a bright future. Griboedov, who had just entered the bureaucratic world, the St. Petersburg high society, the backstage corners of the theater (where his heart's passions and love for the stage attracted him), and the circle of writers, joined it early. Much else about him must have seemed unsettled to an outside observer. He could waste time on such trifles as a translation of the French play “Court Infidelity” or a parody of Zagoskin’s author’s techniques (“Lubochny Theater”); behind the scenes, he probably seemed to many to be one of the flexible purveyors of benefit news, and not the first to be analyzed, because his style remained heavy. In literature, he also did not define his relationship to the schools of classics and romantics that were arguing at that time, drawing closer both to the members of Shishkov’s “Conversation” and to Pushkin and his friends.

When Katenin, who for a long time seemed, and not only to Griboedov, to be an authoritative judge, translated Burger’s ballad “Lenora,” which was considered a harbinger of romanticism, Griboedov came out in print to defend his friend’s translation. On the other hand, he, together with the same Katenin, wrote the comedy “Student”, where, in the person of the hero of the play, ex-seminar student Benevolsky, he ridiculed, sometimes falling into caricatured exaggeration, the pretentiousness of sentimentality and romanticism. In this mixture of schools and views, not everything pointed, however, to the unsteadiness of the aspiring writer; already here the independence with which Griboyedov subsequently took his place among the main directions was manifested, declaring that “both he lives and writes freely.” He also appeared in the world, where his well-aimed, but cold and strict wit surprised and confused, instilling in his interlocutors a false idea of ​​the embitterment of his mind - according to Pushkin, preventing them from recognizing in him an unusually gifted, perhaps great, person. He was in good standing among his colleagues, and his mother’s cherished dream of seeing him as a diplomat was coming true. But almost no one suspected the inner work that was happening in him. A man who became increasingly close to the best of the future Decembrists, who later counted Alexander Odoevsky, Chaadaev and Ryleev among his friends, could still cultivate somewhat old-fashioned forms in his literary works, but more and more boldly expressed his protest against the modern system of things. His historical sympathies were capable of pointing out to him (like Ryleev, in his “Dumas”) the greatness and courage of antiquity, whose example should inspire new generations. This is the idea of ​​a drama that has come down to us only in the form of a script from the Patriotic War, which depicted, along with the features of national heroism, “various abominations,” while at night the shadows of the great Russians flock to the Archangel Cathedral, mourn the death of the fatherland and pray to heaven for its salvation. But even more expensive for Griboyedov was direct intervention in the topic of the day - and from his early youth, the idea of ​​“Woe from Wit”, which was then completely abandoned, emerges, from a retelling of a Moscow piquant anecdote turning into a more harmonious whole, obviously already having the goal of satirical coverage of the entire life of the highest society. This is the second edition of the comedy, which has also not reached us, but is attested by the testimony of people who heard the author read it, and is also known from the changes made in it for the third and final edition (for example, to eliminate Famusov’s wife from among the characters). More mature in concept and social significance, it was, of course, written with liveliness and wit. This is confirmed by the successes made by Griboedov in the meantime in developing verse and freely moving dialogue.

In the play “One’s Own Family, or The Married Bride,” which he wrote in collaboration with Shakhovsky and Khmelnitsky, Griboyedov owns five phenomena in the second act, which are striking, in this regard, compared to the first experiments; a typical "Griboyedov" verse has already been born. In the same way, in the prose comedy “Student” - as far as one can discern what belongs to Griboyedov in it - there are living everyday features (the serfdom of the big master Zvezdov, the Silently insinuity of Benevolsky, the hussar skills of Sablin). With what care Griboedov’s favorite play must have been handled, even in small things! But the author was not yet destined to finish it; his first St. Petersburg period, full of hobbies, pranks, serious thoughts and constantly progressing literary work, suddenly ends. Griboyedov's participation as a second in the duel between Sheremetev and Zavadovsky, which outraged everyone due to the fierceness of the opponents, almost ruined his official position, especially since it became known that a duel between the seconds was also planned.

Griboyedov's mother persistently demanded his temporary removal from St. Petersburg in order to allow the rumors and gossip to subside and soften the anger of the authorities. He protested in vain, made excuses, evaded; everything was set in motion, and the position of secretary of the embassy in Persia was secured for him against his will. With genuine sadness he left his fatherland, friends and his beloved woman. A few months later, after a deliberately slow journey through Russia and Transcaucasia, which delayed as much as possible the beginning of this honorable exile, Griboedov entered Tehran (March 4, 1819), little by little taking a closer look at eastern morals, types and orders, which sometimes reminded him, for all his sympathy for Russian antiquity, ancient Russians. He did not have to stay in the capital of the Shah; trips around Persia took Griboedov through ruins that were reminiscent of the heroic past of peers, and through mountain and steppe backwaters, brought him together with poets, dervishes, courtiers, petty ruling princes, and finally brought him to Tabriz, where, in the complete calm of the “diplomatic Monastery" Griboyedov spent a significant part of his first service in the East.

The responsibilities were simple, mainly boiling down to reflecting the intrigues of Abbas Mirza, under whom the European embassies actually consisted. Neither Russian colleagues nor foreign diplomats could understand Griboyedov’s requests and varied interests. He withdrew into himself: he either intensively studied oriental languages ​​(Persian and Arabic), then he read, or, with an ease and fecundity incomprehensible to him, he worked again on his comedy, surprised that where he had no listeners, poetry remained are pouring. Alone with his thoughts, he delved deeper into the meaning of the plot he had chosen; elevated characters, originally sketched from life, to the meaning of typical images (lists of imaginary originals of his characters are not trustworthy); expanded and raised the meaning of the environment; introduced the image of an empty secular crowd, senselessly and intolerantly rebelling against knowledge, humanity, freedom; Chatsky's typical character was formed from the best qualities of like-minded people and friends; made him a champion of progress and national consciousness in the face of triumphant reaction. As a widely read man, he could not help but experience a certain influence of exemplars; the evil gossip about Chatsky’s imaginary madness is somewhat reminiscent of the Abderites’ revenge on Democritus in Wieland’s story “Geschichte der Abderiten”; Moliere's "The Misanthrope" with its characterization of Alceste, the subtly invented combination of his disappointment in people with his infatuation with a coquette, whom he hopes to save and raise to his level, even some individual poems (for example, the final words of Chatsky) even more influenced "Woe from Wit"; but the excitement and support provided by such models determined only part of the creative work, which was all endured, suffered, and written with the blood of the heart.

In Tabriz, the first two acts of the comedy were roughly completed, in its third and last edition. At times, business assignments prompted Griboyedov to travel to Tiflis; once he took out of Persia and returned to his homeland a whole crowd of unfortunate Russian prisoners, barely covered with rags, unjustly detained by the Persian authorities. This fearlessly carried out enterprise drew the special attention of Ermolov to Griboedov, who immediately recognized his rare talents and original mind, and regretted that such a person had to be bored and wither in a deaf and ignorant country. This coincided completely with Griboyedov’s increasingly inflamed desire to break free from the “sad kingdom” (triste royaume), in which “not only will you learn nothing, but you will also forget what you knew before.” Ermolov finally achieved the appointment of Griboedov as secretary for foreign affairs under the commander-in-chief in the Caucasus.

Since his move to Tiflis, he himself has revived again, and comedy has begun to move forward more successfully. Both initial acts were completed and completely rewritten in Tiflis. Among the official studies, memos and projects that were always expected from Griboyedov as a specialist in the East, the last two acts were slowly written - and not for lack of inspiration, but because the author himself realized the incompleteness of his information about modern metropolitan society, which, as he heard, had succeeded , changed in many ways, although not for the better, during the five years (1818 - 1823) Griboyedov spent away from him. For the benefit of the comedy, it was necessary to plunge again into the Moscow big society; the vacation, first short, then extended and generally covering almost two years, led Griboedov to his desired goal. The joy of meeting friends was enhanced by the opportunity, thanks to them, to observe life. There was not a public meeting in Moscow where Griboedov, who had previously avoided all such gatherings, did not appear; He met many people then, then went to Begichev’s estate for the summer, p. Dmitrievskoye, Efremovsky district, Tula province, and there, retiring to work for half a day and then reading what he had written to his friend and his wife, in the summer of 1824 he finished “Woe from Wit” and returned with the manuscript to Moscow, devoting only his sister to his secret. An empty accident announced throughout the city the appearance of a merciless satire, directed, as they said, against Muscovites in general and influential people in particular. It was impossible to keep the manuscript secret, and Griboedov experienced the “tribute of glory”; Along with delight, murmurs, abuse, and slander were heard; people recognized themselves in the portraits immortalized by the comedy, threatened a duel, complained to the local authorities, and snitched to St. Petersburg. According to Griboedov himself, from the moment his cherished work became so public - the fate of which he at first did not think about, knowing that difficult censorship conditions would not allow him on stage, and at best, dreaming only of its publication - he succumbed to temptation to hear his poems on stage, in front of the crowd they were supposed to bring to their senses, and decided to go to St. Petersburg to bother about its production. With regret, he parted with the best decorations of the play, cut down, weakened and smoothed out, realizing that in its original form “Woe from Wit” was “much more magnificent and of higher significance” than now, in the “vain outfit in which he was forced to dress his". But this self-sacrifice was in vain. Hostile influences managed to damage him so much in the ruling spheres that all he could achieve was permission to publish several excerpts from the play in Bulgarin’s almanac “Russian Waist” for 1825. , while stage performance was unconditionally prohibited, and the ban was mercilessly extended to private performances by theater school students (including the later famous P. Karatygin), who wanted to at least somewhere give the author the opportunity to see his work in person.

The attacks of old-fashioned criticism, often the expression of embittered secular accounts; the murmur of those offended by the comedy or those who generally stood up for decency and morality, as if offended by it; the hostility of the authorities, who did not release either the printed or stage text of the comedy and thereby caused its unprecedented prevalence in tens of thousands of lists; finally, the direct impressions of the reaction that fell on him personally and on everything that was dear to him - all this had a strong effect on Griboyedov. His gaiety was lost forever; periods of gloomy melancholy visited him more and more often; He became closer than ever to progressive people in society and literature and, apparently, was privy to many of their plans and intentions. If at this time he wrote several poems (mainly from the nature and life of the Caucasus), and even together with Prince Vyazemsky - a small play: “Who is brother, who is sister” (an adventure at the station, with dressing a young girl in an officer’s uniform as the main effect) , then these small works, in which only occasionally the amazing talent of the author flashes, seem to have been written only to somehow fill spiritual anxiety and disperse melancholy.

When he had to return to Georgia, Griboyedov again chose a roundabout path, visited Kiev and the Crimea, in his travel notes he left a living trace of his curiosity and erudition on issues of history and archeology, and an artistic attitude towards nature, was already approaching the goal of his trip and moved in with Ermolov, when the news reached him about the events of December 14, in which so many people close to him participated, whose ideas he sympathized with, doubting only the timeliness of the coup. Soon a courier was sent with orders to immediately bring him to the investigative commission. Ermolov managed to warn Griboyedov, and all incriminating papers were destroyed. Having again made his way to the north, towards the fate that awaited him, Griboedov found, even among the investigators and serf authorities, people who highly valued his talent and were ready to protect and save him. On the advice of one of them, he replaced the original statement of his beliefs with ignorance in his answers to the question items.

In June 1826, he was released and had to return to his service again, without suffering in any way from the suspicion and arrest that arose. But another person was returning. Only those who knew Griboyedov closer could guess what was going on under the reserved, business-like appearance that he had now adopted for himself; only they knew how sad he was, how sorry he was for his unfortunate comrades, how orphaned he was without them; only they, looking “at his cold face,” saw on it “traces of past passions” and remembered (as Baratynsky did in a wonderful poem for the portrait of Griboedov) that sometimes the waterfall that raged before freezes, preserving “movements” even in its icy state view". Literary activity apparently ceased for Griboyedov forever. Creativity could brighten his gloomy mood; he looked for new inspiration, but with despair he became convinced that these expectations were in vain. “I don’t know if I’m demanding too much of myself,” he wrote from Simferopol, “can I write? Really, it’s still a mystery to me. That I have plenty to say, for which I vouch; why am I dumb? " Life seemed to him endlessly tedious and colorless; “I don’t know why this is taking so long,” he exclaimed. In order to fill it with some useful work, he took up business duties with great zeal.

Under the new commander-in-chief, Paskevich, who was married to his cousin, one could count even more on the practical application of the projects that originated with Griboyedov. He never reconciled himself with the “drum enlightenment” that we introduced in the Caucasus, and waited for the time when Russian rule would bring culture and the free development of popular forces to the region. Interested in social sciences while still at the university, he now applied their techniques to the study of local life, legal customs, trade relations, and national economy in the broad sense of the word. His various “notes” on issues of this kind remained an interesting proof of his rare abilities for practical activities; They were always based on the desire to combine the benefits of the state with the greatest possible space for the life of nationalities, whose centuries-old traditions collided with the official Russian system. Griboyedov reluctantly returned to the Caucasus and was seriously thinking about retirement, perhaps about a long trip abroad; Only the mother’s intense requests and especially her skillfully staged scene in the chapel of the Iveron Mother of God, where in front of the icon Nastasya Fedorovna took an oath from her son to fulfill what she asked, forced him to continue the service. But once this was done, and the daily work began, he considered it a duty of honor to put all his skill and knowledge into it. It was necessary to take part in military endeavors, accompanying troops during expeditions to the mountains, or, when the Russian-Persian War of 1827 - 28 began, being present at all matters, skirmishes and battles; Fearless, having accustomed his nerves to the whistling of bullets and cannonballs, here he performed the same feat of self-denial and, indignant against the extermination of people legalized by wars, restrained the protest bursting from his chest with an effort of will.

At the end of the campaign, he again, due to his intimate knowledge of the people and conditions in Persia, was unusually useful during peace negotiations. When, completely defeated near Nakhichevan, Abbas Mirza asked for a cessation of hostilities, Griboyedov was sent to the Persian camp and, after many efforts, achieved the Turkmanchay Treaty, which was beneficial for Russia, which brought it both significant territory and large indemnities. These concessions were made by the Persians against their will, out of necessity; Through the florid pleasantries in the oriental taste, hatred and an impatient desire to take revenge and take back everything that had been conceded were too clearly visible. Griboyedov, rightly proud of his success, did not hide his fears of this retaliation and, perhaps, a quick resumption of the war. But the present moment was still significant for him; Paskevich could not have chosen a better messenger of peace. In February 1828, Griboedov traveled north again with reports and the text of the treatise.

In the final period of Griboyedov’s life, overcrowded with affairs and considerations of an administrative or diplomatic nature, it seemed that there was not even a modest place left for creativity. But at this time (the exact date cannot be determined) inspiration came to him for the last time. He could no longer return to the path of comedy, and his new idea, inspired by Caucasian impressions, was to take the form of a tragedy in the Shakespearean style or, as they said then, “romantic tragedy.” He called it “Georgian Night” and, it seems, completed it in full, although only two scenes and a cursory outline of the content have survived. The plot was taken from Georgian life. A self-governor and serf owner, the old prince, in a moment of whim, sold his nurse's son, a faithful servant of the house, to his neighbor. He responds angrily to her pleas to return the boy and banishes her. She curses him, goes to a mountain gorge, and summons the evil spirits of Ali. They “float in the fog at the foot of the mountains”, perform “in a round dance in evening couples, before the rising of the sad, virgin moon.” Like Macbeth's witches, they exchange messages about the evil they are about to commit; the nurse demands their help; when a young Russian, in love with the princess, carries her away with him and the father chases after him, the spirits carry a bullet aimed at the kidnapper, right into the daughter’s heart, the father becomes the murderer of his beloved child; injustice and tyranny are cruelly avenged.

It is difficult to say how much truth there is in the enthusiastic reviews of Griboedov’s friends, who claimed that in “Woe from Wit” he only “tried his pen,” while in “Georgian Night” he fully expressed his talent; The passages that have come down to us are still highly curious as an expression of a turn in his artistic taste, revealing great beauties in his new direction. In the irritated dialogue of two adamant opponents, the prince and the nanny, there is real stage life; the appearance of spirits and the scene of the spell are surrounded by poetic mystery. If we compare these techniques of Griboyedov in his last work with his previous attempts to write in a more or less raised style, which led (for example, in many poems, especially with a philosophical overtone) to the excessive use of Slavicisms or a piling up of metaphors, the progress made by Griboyedov in this will become obvious. areas. The end of the war, the trip to St. Petersburg and the new activity that subsequently opened up for our writer stopped his last impulses towards creativity. I had to stage an unprecedented tragicomedy with a bloody ending on the stage of life. There was no one among the diplomats who could, having appeared in defeated Persia, immediately after its defeat, establish with tact, knowledge of people and living conditions, the correct relations of both countries, except for Griboyedov, who enjoyed the reputation of an expert in Persian affairs and the creator of the newly concluded agreement. Despite his more decisive reluctance to go to Persia, where, as he had a right to expect, he was most hated as the main culprit of the humiliation of national honor, it was impossible to refuse in view of the categorically stated desire of the emperor. Griboyedov sadly said goodbye to everyone who knew him, anticipating eternal separation.

The strengthening of Russian influence in Persia, which now stood as the main task of his activity, no longer occupied him at all; he looked too closely at Eastern life and way of thinking to find lively interest in the opportunity that opened up to him for a long life in one of the centers of stagnation, arbitrariness and fanaticism. He realized that he had already worked a lot in this area, and the most gratifying vacation again seemed to him to be a trip not to the East, but to the West (which remained an impossible dream for him, as for Pushkin, throughout his life). But duty inspired him to steadfastly carry out the difficult task he had taken upon himself, and the new plenipotentiary minister more than once weighed and pondered, during his journey from St. Petersburg, the policy that he should follow. A ray of happiness illuminated the suddenly tired soul of Griboyedov at that time in his life when it seemed that all joy had left him. The daughter of his old friend, Princess Nina Chavchavadze, whom he knew as a girl, enchanted him with the charm of a blooming flower; suddenly, almost at a family dinner, he proposed to her and, despite the fever that tormented him, which did not lag behind during the marriage ceremony, he, perhaps for the first time, experienced happy love in full force, experiencing, in his words, such a romance, which leaves far behind the most bizarre stories of fiction writers famous for their imagination.

When he recovered enough to set off, he took his wife to Tabriz and went without her to Tehran to prepare everything there for her arrival. The tenderness with which he surrounded his little “Muriliev shepherdess” (as he called Nina; she had just turned sixteen) is evidenced by his letter to her, one of his last (from Kazbin, December 24, 1828), full of affection and love and prayers to God that they would never be separated again. Upon arrival in Tehran, he immediately began to apply to the case the program of action that he had outlined for himself; he wanted to impress with the highly raised dignity of the Russian name, violated the etiquette of the Shah's court, showing the Shah himself the least possible respect, taking under his protection either the caretaker of the harem, or its inhabitants, if they were from among the Russian subjects and sought the protection of the Russian ambassador, - persistently demanding payment indemnities and generally not yielding in any way to the obstinacy of the Persians. All this was done despite personal inclinations, out of a strong consciousness of duty; but, overpowering himself, Griboyedov went too far. Excited by outside whispers, he sometimes acted in a defiant manner; English diplomats took advantage of these mistakes to incite hatred towards the ambassador in court spheres; the suspicions that arose in this regard at the time are largely confirmed by documents made public recently. But hatred rose even more menacingly among the masses; she was excited and supported by clergy, who on market days fanatically preached revenge and beating up the Russians; It is unlikely that any of the foreign diplomats hostile to Griboyedov in their intrigue could consciously rely on the wild power of the ignorant crowd, which was told that the Russians should be exterminated as enemies of the people's religion. The instigator of the uprising was the Tehran mujshehid (highest cleric) Mesih, his main accomplices were the ulema; nobles like Alayar Khan, Griboedov's constant enemy, were also privy to the conspiracy, which was intended to frighten the Russians, inflict some damage on them, but not cause a massacre.

When (according to the testimony of the Persian dignitaries themselves) about 100 thousand people gathered on the fateful day, and the masses, fanaticized by the sermon, rushed to the embassy house, the leaders of the conspiracy lost power over it, and elemental force raged. Griboyedov understood the danger he was exposed to, and the day before his death he sent a menacing note to the palace, declaring in it that, in view of the inability of the Persian authorities to protect the honor and the very lives of Russian representatives, he was asking his government to recall him from Tehran. But it was already too late. On January 30, 1829, an almost complete massacre of Russians took place (only embassy adviser Maltsov escaped) and, in particular, the brutal murder of Griboyedov, whose body was found disfigured and mutilated in a pile of corpses. With his usual fearlessness, Griboedov hurried to go down to the front door, which the Cossacks were trying to guard, defended himself with a saber, was recognized and put down on the spot. Through long diplomatic replies, assurances of innocence and demonstrative despair, and finally by sending Khosrev Mirza to St. Petersburg with an apology, the Persian government managed to normalize relations with Russia again; this was realized all the more easily because, busy with the Turkish war, Russia could not wish to resume military operations against another country. Peace and harmony gradually established themselves, as if nothing had disturbed them.

Only the great man was gone... Griboedov was buried in Tiflis near the monastery of St. David, the beautiful location of which he always admired, expressing a desire to find his grave here. His wife survived him by almost thirty years.

There are writers whose entire spiritual life, all their best thoughts and creative talent were expressed in one work, which is exactly the result of their existence. Among them, Griboyedov occupies one of the first places. Posterity has forgotten his poems and small plays, knows too little about “Georgian Night”, Griboedov’s diplomatic works and learned amateurism are valued in the world, but will never cease to be amazed at the nobility of the plan, the courage of the satire and the incomparable comedy of “Woe from Wit”. In this comedy and in the correspondence - unfortunately, still little known, while in it the moral personality of the writer appears unusually brightly and sincerely - one can see at every step one of the most gifted Russian people, who sincerely loved his fatherland, with sympathy for its antiquity and originality who knew how to combine sympathy for progress and hostility towards those who “would like to forever detain our people in a state of infancy.”

Happy is literature, in which such an ardent and courageous protest against evil could be heard. The power of his influence has survived for half a century, although “Griboedov’s Moscow” has become a complete anachronism; it is based on an eternally truthful, always understandable intercession for ideals dear to people and does not depend on temporary conditions of life, no matter how wittily they are ridiculed; it does not depend on the boring debate about Griboyedov’s party affiliation, who himself won an independent position in literature and society - because the truly great in creativity freely rises above the discord and trifles of the day. For modern, discouraged literature, an invaluable benefit would be the writer’s determination “with soul” to come up with a new adaptation of the eternal theme of “Woe from Wit,” equally passionate and sincere, although addressed to a new society and to people who are vicious in a new way. This wish seems to be the highest praise that a descendant can give to Griboyedov.

Every schoolchild knows it, and his “Woe from Wit” has long been recognized as the pinnacle of Russian drama. However, for his contemporaries, Alexander Sergeevich was, first of all, not a writer, but a diplomat - and a cult diplomat at that. Thanks to Griboedov, the Russian-Persian War ended with a peace treaty extremely beneficial for Russia, known as the Turkmenchay Treaty. Not only did the Russian Empire liberate the city of Erivan (modern Yerevan), but they also imposed an indemnity of 20 million rubles in silver on Persia - a gigantic sum at that time. The Russian navy received a monopoly on the Caspian Sea, and domestic merchant ships also began to sail freely there. As Friedrich Engels would later say, “The Turkmenchay Treaty turned Persia into a vassal of Russia.” And military leader Nikolai Muravyov-Karsky will add: Griboyedov “replaced us there with his single person for an army of twenty thousand.”

"Wai, wai, Turkmanchay"

Alexander Griboyedov was considered one of the most educated people of his time. Already at the age of 6, the future writer and ambassador spoke three languages, and at 13 he already had the title of candidate of literary sciences. By the way, at Moscow University he graduated from three departments: verbal, moral and political, and physics and mathematics. At the same time, he studied literature and music - he played the piano and wrote compositions (the “Griboedov Waltz” is most famous).

Helping General Paskevich (his relative and immediate superior) during the Persian campaign, the future diplomat negotiated with Tehran. The fact that Russia achieved favorable terms for itself in the peace treaty is also due to Griboyedov - and quite a lot. The writer reported personally on the concluded peace to the emperor Nicholas I, after which the sovereign granted him the Order of St. Anne with diamonds, the rank of state councilor and 4 thousand gold chervonets. Thus, Griboyedov contributed to the annexation of vast lands to his country and liberated Erivan from Islamic rule, which was extremely important for Russia, which positioned itself as a defender of oppressed Christians. Along the way, the diplomat “bargained” unprecedented conditions for the domestic fleet and merchant ships. The importance of these events is easy to assess - Armenia and Russia are still friends, and in Iran to this day there is an expression: “Wai, wai, Turkmanchay” - this is how the locals call a very unfavorable, ruinous deal for themselves.

Undiplomatic Diplomat

As some contemporaries recalled, Griboyedov sometimes behaved recklessly - not as befits a diplomat. For example, he could prance on horseback in front of enemy troops or not observe local customs. And when the writer was 22, all of St. Petersburg was discussing the famous “quadruple duel” in which he participated. The cause of the conflict was a famous ballerina Avdotya Istomina- the same one that Pushkin sang in poetry.

The fact is that the dancer was in a relationship with a cavalry guard Sheremetev, but while he was away, she spent a couple of days in the house of the chamber cadet Count Zavadovsky. It was none other than Griboyedov who brought her there - he was fond of theater and was friends with Istomina, and after the performance he simply invited her to visit him. Alexander Sergeevich then lived with his friend Zavadovsky, so it turned out that the ballerina lived with the men for 2 days. Sheremetev, who returned, insisted on a duel - and he had to fight not with the instigator, Griboyedov, but with the owner of the house, Zavadovsky. But the future writer-diplomat also suffered - he had to fight with a friend of the offended Sheremetev.

“At least you’ll stop playing!”

A day after the first duel (Zavadovsky-Sheremetev), Count Sheremetev, Istomina’s lover, died from his wound. Griboyedov behaved diplomatically - he invited his rival to make peace. But for some reason this did not suit cornet Yakubovich (that was his name). The duel took place - however, a year later (the emperor punished the duelists with “exile” to the Caucasus and they managed to meet only the following autumn). Yakubovich shot first - he hit the enemy in the hand. One of the seconds later wrote: “They say that Yakubovich exclaimed: “At least you’ll stop playing!” Griboyedov lost one finger on his hand, which did not stop him from still playing the piano perfectly. The writer himself nobly shot past and did not take advantage of his advantage (according to the rules, he could have come closer to the barrier and taken aim properly).

From then on, when Griboyedov sat down at the piano, he put a special leather “cover” on the little finger of his left hand - after all, his finger became one phalanx shorter. And after the tragic death in Tehran, the ambassador could only be identified by this wound from 11 years ago.

“We will be killed there”

After an unexpected and resounding success in Turkmanchay, the writer was appointed ambassador to Persia. At that time, Griboedov finally wanted to focus on literature - he finalized “Woe from Wit” and the play was popular among the capital’s youth. Although during his lifetime the author did not see either the publication of his brainchild or its production in the theater, the play was copied by hand and immediately snapped up for aphorisms. “Happy people don’t watch the clock”, “The smoke of the Fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us”, “I would be glad to serve, it’s sickening to be served” - all these phrases came precisely from Griboyedov. In 1828, the author left the final version of the manuscript to one of his friends and left - again for service, again in Persia. Saying goodbye to friends, he said: “Don’t congratulate me on this appointment. They will kill us there.”

Last happiness

But on the way to Tehran, one last happy event awaited the newly appointed ambassador. Driving through Tiflis (modern Tbilisi), he stopped by his friend, Prince Chavchavadze(major general of the Russian army and famous Georgian poet). There Griboedov met the prince's 15-year-old daughter - Nina, whom he taught to play the piano as a child. Later the author wrote: “I was sitting at the table opposite Nina Chavchavadze... I kept looking at her, thinking, my heart began to beat... Coming out from the table, I took her hand and said: “Come with me, I need something.” tell you". She obeyed me, as always; That’s right, she thought that I would sit her down at the piano: but it turned out differently. We entered the room, my cheeks flushed... I don’t remember what I began to say to her, and everything became more and more alive. She cried, laughed, and I kissed her...”

Memorial plaque to Alexander Griboyedov. St. Petersburg, Bolshaya Morskaya st., 14. Photo: Commons.wikimedia.org / Shcherbakov 4

Two months later, the newlyweds got married - a very unexpected and spontaneous decision for a diplomat. The groom was 33, the bride half that age. During the wedding, Griboyedov dropped the ring... The ambassador went to Persia with his wife, but left pregnant Nina in a safe residence in Tevriz, just in case. And he himself wrote beautiful messages to her from Tehran.

The dramatic finale of the playwright's life

A few months after the wedding, Griboyedov died. The ambassador, who defended the interests of Russia to the last and did not make any concessions to the Persians, was killed by a crowd of angry religious fanatics - they burst into the embassy building on January 30, 1829 and killed almost everyone (only the secretary survived). Local residents openly condemned Griboyedov’s behavior: he sometimes expressed disrespect for Eastern traditions (for example, he might not take off his shoes at a reception with the Shah) and, in general, acted on the principle of “woe to the vanquished.” Shortly before his death, he took under his protection the eunuch of the Shah's harem - an Armenian by origin, who wanted to return to his homeland. This act only irritated the rulers of Persia, but for the ambassador it was more important to help a simple eunuch - Griboedov always supported Armenia.

Griboyedov's legacy: "Woe from Wit", a unique diamond and a 16-year-old widow

Upon learning of her husband's death, Nina fainted. This provoked premature birth, but the child lived only an hour... The 16-year-old widow wore mourning for the rest of her life, rejected all advances and spent large sums on charity. People called her the Black Rose of Tiflis - for her loyalty. At the grave of the writer and diplomat, Chavchavadze installed a black marble tombstone with a woman crying on her knees. There is an inscription on the marble: “Your mind and deeds are immortal in Russian memory, but why did my love survive you?”

In literary circles, Griboyedov remained “a writer of one book.” In his main passion - literature - he simply did not have time to fully realize himself. And after the bloody history with the Persians, they tried not to pronounce the name of Griboedov even in their homeland. However, in some moments even Pushkin could envy the brilliant writer, musician and diplomat. In “Travel to Arzrum” he wrote: “His handwritten comedy “Woe from Wit” produced an indescribable effect and suddenly placed him on a par with our first poets... The very death that befell him in the middle of a brave, unequal battle had nothing terrible for Griboyedov, nothing tedious. It was immediate and beautiful.”

And a diplomatic scandal with Persia was avoided. The Shah, unlike religious fanatics, understood how dangerous it was to fight with Russia and what could follow from the barbaric murder of the ambassador. More than one and a half thousand people in Tehran were punished for “popular riot”: someone was killed, someone was maimed “for edification.” An emergency Persian embassy headed by the Shah's grandson Khasrow-Mirza arrived at Nicholas I - he threw himself on his knees before the emperor, put a saber to his chest and begged to take his life in exchange for Griboyedov's life. Also, rich gifts were brought to the Russian court: pearls, cashmere carpets, ancient manuscripts... And also one of the greatest Persian treasures: the unique Shah diamond of 88.7 carats (about 3 cm in length), which has long belonged to the greatest rulers of the East. This is how the Persians assessed the life of the incredible Russian diplomat.

It is a pity that Griboyedov did not leave his notes. But wonderful people disappear from us, leaving no traces of them. A.S. Pushkin

Writer, diplomat, translator, mathematician, lawyer and composer A.S. Griboedov is one of the authors of one book. In Spain there was such a writer Miguel Cervantes, who wrote the novel "Don Quixote", in Holland - Erasmus of Rotterdam, known as the author of “In Praise of Folly,” the only book in the United States to be authored by female writers Margaret Mitchell("Gone with the Wind") and Harper Lee ("To Kill a Mockingbird"). Russian playwright Alexander Griboyedov known as the author of the comedy in verse "Woe from Wit", although strictly speaking this is not his only work. However, the parody comedy “Dmitry Dryanskoy” or the vaudeville “Student” and “Feigned Infidelity” written in collaboration with other writers cannot be classified as real literature in terms of artistic level.

The year of birth of Griboedov is not known exactly - sometimes they indicate 1790, 1793, 1794. However, the date of birth is recorded in the documents - January 4 (15), 1795. Griboedov was born in Moscow in the family of Second Major Sergei Ivanovich and Anastasia Fedorovna. It is noteworthy that both parents came from the Griboyedov family, so the mother did not have to change her surname when married. The Griboyedov family itself had Polish roots: a distant ancestor, Jan Grzhibovsky, moved from Poland to Russia at the beginning of the 17th century.

As a child, young Griboyedov showed extraordinary intellectual abilities: at the age of six he was fluent in three languages, and by the age of twelve - nine. At the age of 13, he graduated from the verbal department of Moscow University with the title of Candidate of Literary Sciences, after which by the age of 17 he graduated from two more faculties - physics and mathematics and law, thus receiving three higher educations.

Participated in the Patriotic War of 1812 as part of a hussar regiment, in which he served until 1815. At the age of 20 he retired and, having arrived in St. Petersburg, devoted himself to literary activity. Serves as provincial secretary in the Collegium of Foreign Affairs. Meets A.S. Pushkin and V.K. Kuchelbecker. In collaboration with Pavel Katenin, Alexander Shakhovsky and Andrei Zhandre, he writes several parody comedies.

In 1817, Griboyedov became a participant quadruple duel, that is, such a duel in which after the duelists their seconds are obliged to shoot. The duel took place over the famous ballerina Avdotya Istomina. The duelists were Sheremetev and Zavadovsky, the seconds, respectively, were Yakubovich and Griboyedov. During the duel, Sheremetev was mortally wounded, and the seconds decided to postpone their fight. The duel between Griboyedov and the future Decembrist Alexander Yakubovich took place in the fall of 1818 in Tiflis (now Tbilisi). As a result of the duel, Griboyedov was wounded in the left hand. The writer left Tiflis for Persia as secretary of the diplomatic mission.

Comedy "Woe from Wit". Griboyedov served in Persia until 1821, then for health reasons he was transferred to Georgia as a secretary under General Ermolov. It was here that rough sketches of the comedy "Woe from Wit" were made. From 1823 to 1825 lives in Moscow and St. Petersburg, where he communicates with some Decembrists (although he does not share their views) and completes work on his main comedy.

It was the comedy "Woe from Wit" that made Griboyedov a classic of Russian literature. Without it, he would have remained in Russian history only as a diplomat. It is traditionally believed that the idea for the comedy “Woe from Wit” arose in 1816 in a dream (which Griboedov himself mentioned in one of his letters), and in 1824 it was completed. The actual text of the comedy was created from 1822 to 1824. The author's original intention was a satirical depiction of the life and customs of the Moscow nobility. The comedy was first called "Woe to Wit", then "Woe and No Wit", and in the final version - "Woe from Wit".

For its time, the comedy "Woe from Wit" turned out to be a highly topical work. The central characters - the Moscow gentleman Famusov and the young nobleman Chatsky - personify the two camps into which Russian society was divided after World War II - conservative and progressive. Conservatives were opposed to any social change; The meaning of life was seen in the acquisition of ranks and wealth, and enlightenment and education were considered evil. A few young nobles held opposing views and opposed serfdom, veneration of rank and admiration for wealth. It is precisely this collision of “the present century and the past century” that Chatsky speaks about in one of his monologues.

However, in comedy, the central place is occupied not only by social, but also by love conflict. The plot begins with Chatsky’s arrival at Famusov’s house with the aim of marrying his daughter Sophia: the young people once loved each other, but Chatsky suddenly left and, according to Famusov, “he didn’t write two words for three years and suddenly came out of the clouds.” Chatsky did not intend to enter into conflict with his potential father-in-law, but it suddenly turns out that there is an irreconcilable contradiction in the life principles of Chatsky, who plans to marry Sophia, and the views of Famusov. But this is not what worries Chatsky: for some reason Sophia receives him coldly, and in order to unravel the reason for such a reception, Chatsky stays in Famusov’s house for a day, managing to quarrel with almost all the guests of the owner of the house.

The comedy is written as if in the spirit of classicism (with elements of realism that was emerging at that time): Griboyedov formally observes the rule of three unities. However, it is impossible to strictly divide the characters into positive and negative, since the images of the central characters - Chatsky, Famusov, Sophia - are largely contradictory. In addition, the comedy has more than 60 off-stage characters, that is, heroes who are not present on stage, but are mentioned in lines and monologues, and this significantly expands the boundaries of what is depicted. Griboyedov himself said that in his comedy there are “twenty fools for one sane person.” However, Chatsky, entering the fight against the “Famusov society,” is faced with humiliating intrigues. Declared crazy, he leaves Moscow, and his struggle ends in nothing.

Some researchers believe that this ending to the plot contains a hint of the activities of the Decembrists, who entered into an unequal struggle with the political system of the then Russia. Griboyedov’s phrase is well known: “One hundred warrant officers want to overturn the entire state life of Russia. I told them that they are fools.” Thus, the author’s attitude towards his hero can be considered ambivalent. The controversy surrounding the image of Chatsky also boiled down to the question of whether the main character of the comedy is really smart. In particular, A.S. Pushkin denied Chatsky intelligence, noting that the main sign of an intelligent person is the ability to see who you are dealing with, while Chatsky pronounces his passionate accusatory monologues in front of those who, in principle, are not able to understand him. However, writers and critics considered Chatsky undeniably smart I.A. Goncharov (article "A Million Torments") And A.I. Herzen (article "Bazarov Once again"): the first noted that Chatsky is not only smarter than other characters in the comedy, but also “positively smart,” and the second discovered the similarity of Chatsky’s freedom-loving ideas with the views of the Decembrists: this is a criticism of serfdom, and the idea of ​​serving the Motherland, and a respectful attitude towards everything Russian.

Diplomatic activities and death of Griboyedov. In 1825, Griboyedov travels to the Caucasus - through Kyiv and Crimea. In Crimea, the writer conceived the idea of ​​a large-scale work about the baptism of Rus'. In January 1826, while in the Grozny fortress (now the city of Grozny in the Chechen Republic), he was arrested on suspicion of connections with the Decembrists. The investigation lasted about six months, but it was not possible to prove Griboyedov’s guilt, and he was released in June of the same year and continued his diplomatic activities.

Signing of the Turkmanchay Peace Treaty

With the participation of Griboedov, the Turkmanchay Peace Treaty, beneficial for Russia, was concluded in 1828, according to which Russia was given khanates on the territory of modern Armenia and Azerbaijan, and Persia (now Iran) was obliged to pay Russia an indemnity in the amount of 20 million rubles in silver. Griboyedov arrived in St. Petersburg with the text of the treaty, where he was appointed Resident Minister in Persia. On the way to Persia, he stopped in Tiflis, where he married Princess Nina Chavchavadze, with whom he actually lived for several weeks, as he was heading to serve in Tehran. Exactly there January 30, 1829 A crowd of Muslim fanatics attacked the Russian embassy, ​​as a result of which 37 people were brutally killed, including Griboyedov. His body was so disfigured that he could only be identified by a wound to his left hand received during a duel with Yakubovich.

Griboyedov was buried in Tiflis. On the tombstone, Nina Chavchavadze erected a monument with the inscription “Your mind and deeds are immortal in Russian memory, but why did my love survive you?” Monuments to Griboedov were also erected in Yerevan, St. Petersburg and Moscow.

Monument to A.S. Griboyedov in Moscow on Chistye Prudy

Among the remarkable Russian people of the last century, the multifaceted personality of Alexander Sergeevich Griboyedov, a famous writer and outstanding diplomat, attracts attention. Griboedov's life ended early, his diplomatic service was short-lived, but he left a bright mark on the history of Russia's foreign relations. In the literature about Griboyedov, the idea was sometimes expressed that his diplomatic activities did not have much political significance, and the post he held was a simple “official assignment that could be handled by any executive official,” that it was a “minor diplomatic service.”


In 1818, Griboedov, having refused the position of an official of the Russian mission in the United States, was appointed to the post of secretary under the Tsar's Charge d'Affaires of Persia. Before leaving for Tehran, he completed work on “Sideshow Trials.” In August 1818, Griboyedov left St. Petersburg. On his way to Iran, he stopped for some time in Georgia. Here he found himself among the inner circle of Alexei Petrovich Ermolov, a prominent Russian commander, hero of the Napoleonic wars, whose powerful figure dominated the political horizon of the Caucasus


The Russian mission in Tabriz was accredited to the heir to the Iranian throne, Abbas Mirza, with whom both Mazarovich and Griboyedov often had to deal. The prince was a central figure among the statesmen of the then Iran. The person with whom the Russian mission had to constantly and directly deal in Tabriz during the years of Griboyedov’s stay there was Mirza Bizyurk, an experienced statesman who, during his long life, served five sovereigns of Iran, who successively succeeded each other on the throne. Feth Ali Shah sent Mirza Bizyurk to the court of the crown prince to the post of kaymakam.


Diplomatic service in Iran was complex and difficult. What made it so was the intrigues of representatives of powers competing with Russia, the unique traditions of eastern diplomacy, and the social, political and cultural backwardness of Iran. A European who found himself in Iran often felt transported to the Middle Ages. “I had to withstand the dialectic of the 13th century for a whole day,” Griboedov once remarked about his negotiations with Iranian diplomats. Conducting business relations with the nobles of Qajar Iran was not easy. They were extremely distrustful, often resorted to intrigue and believed that others were also necessarily striving to deceive. They were secretive, although at the same time they did not always know how to protect state secrets. Many European diplomats complained about their inability to adhere to the “secrecy of offices” and the habit of “interpreting in public.”


Business relations with the Shah's dignitaries required European diplomacy to carefully select representatives sent to Iran. Even an experienced political agent who was well acquainted with the East, if he did not have the restraint necessary to communicate with the Iranian court, could not succeed in his assignment. Staying in Tabriz among foreign residents was certainly instructive for Griboyedov. The secretary of the Russian mission, inexperienced in business, went through a good school of practical diplomacy here.


The Tabriz period of Griboedov's diplomatic service ended in November 1821 with his trip to Georgia to see Ermolov. He came there with a report on the state of affairs in Iran in connection with the outbreak of the Iranian-Turkish war. The general decided to leave Griboedov in Tiflis and petitioned Nesselrode to appoint the diplomat under him, Ermolov, as “secretary for foreign affairs.” The request of the chief manager was granted, and the collegiate assessor Griboedov (he also received this rank at the insistence of Yermolov) in February 1822 began serving as a diplomatic secretary under the “proconsul of the Caucasus.” IN


In 1823, thanks to the assistance of Ermolov, Griboedov received a four-month leave to Moscow and St. Petersburg “on diplomatic affairs.” The vacation dragged on, and Griboyedov returned to the Caucasus only in October 1825, only to soon leave for the capital again. This time the diplomat left the Caucasus in an unusual manner. Griboyedov was involved in the investigation into the Decembrist case. A courier from St. Petersburg hastily galloped after him, and on January 22, 1826, in the Grozny fortress, Griboedov was arrested “by the highest order.”


A few days after taking up the post of commander-in-chief in Georgia, Paskevich writes to Nesselrode: “When I assumed a new position, I considered it necessary to keep with me and use with benefit those of the officials who served under my predecessor, whose abilities and activities can be relied upon, including the Foreign Collegium of Court Counselor Griboyedov. Since 1818, he was a secretary at the Persian mission, was appointed here in 1822 to the chief administrator for political correspondence,...with some success he studied oriental languages, became familiar with the local region, after a long stay in it, and I hope to have in it diligent political worker" 1 1


A.S. Griboyedov became a well-known personality in the capital's society. He attended balls, theaters, and receptions. But the diplomat’s only desire at this time was to “indulge in his favorite... activities.” He continued to work on the tragedy “Georgian Night”, reciting excerpts from the work by heart. “He will reach a level in literature that no one has ever approached in our country: he has beyond intelligence and creative genius, he has a soul, and without this there is no poetry!” - wrote the publisher of the magazine “Son of the Fatherland” Nikolai Grech. After the wedding, Griboyedov was supposed to return to Persia. Wife Nina followed her husband, but only as far as Tabriz. A.S. Griboyedov feared for his wife’s health and did not want to put her in danger.


During the last mission, failures haunt the diplomat... According to established traditions, an ambassador arriving to the Shah must bring rich gifts. However, the cargo with gifts was delayed in the Caspian Sea. Griboyedov had to wait for their delivery. Things seemed to be going well, but in the evening the eunuch Mirza-Yakub knocked on the door of the Russian embassy, ​​announcing that he wanted to exercise the right of a prisoner and return to his homeland. The Shah could not let such a man go, since he knew a lot about life at court. Together with Mirza-Yakub, several women from Tehran harems took refuge in the embassy.


Plunging into the life story of A.S. Griboedova, I tried to introduce you to many historical facts and events. Looking at the portrait of Griboedov, who was previously known to me as a writer, the author of “Woe from Wit,” I realized how important a person is in the course of historical events. In this portrait I see the era, I feel what people experienced, the thoughts and ideas expressed by them become clearer and more understandable.